I had had my eye on Aleksey since the skating season began. He was the new partner for Tonya in the ice pairs division, and he was sheer sex on ice. He was all dark, brooding good looks; muscle and power and with curly black hair on his arms and legs and swirling around his pecs and diving in a wide path down into his leotard. He wore his jet black hair long, in a pony tail, with a few strands loose across his face, only seeming to hide his piercing eyes and sensual mouth, making them all the more desirable.

The public was able to see the loop ring through one ear, but only those of us who saw him in practice and in the showers knew of the ring through a nipple and the other, maddenly intriguing one down below, in the helmet of his cock.

All season long, I had agonized over the thought of that cock ring running up and down my ass chute, but Aleksey had hardly spoken to me at all, let alone given me a tumble. The lack of attention and interminable waiting only made me love and want him more.

I knew he fucked men. I was well aware of his ritual of having a good fuck the day before competitions, but he'd always had his own friends around him to accommodate him for that—at least until now. None of his usual male friends were in this competition, and he was so on edge that I could tell he hadn't emptied his ball sack since Skate Canada, two weeks previously. I'd watched him just now in practice, and he was so unsettled that his timing was off. I was afraid he was going to drop Tonya to the ice during one of their lifts. He must have been afraid of this as well, as I saw him send her off the ice and start to furiously skim the ice on his own, practicing his moves, trying to get them under control.

I wanted Aleksey to love me, and in order for that to happen, I had to maneuver him into making love to me. No time seemed to be better than the present, so I glided out onto the ice and started some practice warm-ups for my singles routine, hoping to attract his attention.

My timing had been right. I could see instantly that he was watching me. And I could see the desire building in his eyes and his groin coming to life. You can't hide much in an ice skater's practice leotard, and Aleksey was so mammoth down there to start with that any building of sexual energy there was impossible to keep a secret. For performances, he wore a cup that kept his manhood reasonably within bounds, without disguising it to a point of disappointing the women spectators—and a good many of the men spectators as well. But in practice, he didn't bother with a cup, and I could see him lengthen and thicken as I skimmed across the ice.

He skated over to the boards and pulled off his practice T-shirt and came back out to center ice and did some magnificent spins that were not part of his current pairs routine. He was doing them for me. My heart began to pound.

I skated over to the boards and removed my T as well. My smooth, lithe blondness complimented his dark, hairy muscle pack perfectly. I was a youthful yang to his older,